Spruce and Willow
by Jaelijn
Summary: A new collection of drabbles involving our dear inhabitants of 221B, this time based on my own prompttable. No slash!
1. Christmas

_A/N: These little drabbles are based upon my own prompttable. If you wish to use it, you find the complete table in my LJ (link in profile). Also, the chapter-titles are always the prompt._

_

* * *

_**Christmas**

I was humming almost subconsciously, until Holmes turned around on the sofa to look at me, appalled.

"Watson, what are you doing?" he queried with some irritation.

"I was merely humming a Christmas song. You did notice that the holiday is approaching?"

"It is? I had not noticed. But I would appreciate if you could confine your holiday spirit to another room."

I left him to his black mood, only slightly offended, and followed the scent of Christmas cookies into the kitchen. All of a sudden, I did not feel a Christmas tree was a good idea.


	2. Snow

**Snow**

"Holmes! Holmes! Wake up!"

Watson tried to shake me awake by the shoulders, but I dived out of his way and pulled the blanket over my head. "Leave me alone." Nothing was worse than a holiday.

Mercilessly, he let a gust of icy air attack my feet, even through the slippers. "Holmes, I don't mind your moods, but it is snowing! Snowing on Christmas day!"

"Oh." I peered sleepily into the beaming face of Watson. "It's been a while, I assume."

"Yes." His face fell with disappointment.

"All right, Watson, I will look."


	3. Tree

**Tree**

"It's a _tree_, Sherlock."

"I know," he answered, undisturbed.

"What do you hope to achieve by that? I will simply fetch a ladder and get it down."

"Oh, come now, Mycroft, don't be a spoil-sport."

"I'd wish you would cease this nonsense. Get my hat down from that tree."

"I bet you cannot do it without a ladder."

"Your mind would be better occupied elsewhere, little brother, but since you insist."

"That's unfair! You can't just shake the tree!"

I placed my hat in its due place. "Brains, Sherlock. Apply them."


	4. Present

**Present**

When by chance I discovered the date of Sherlock Holmes's birthday, it presented me with very serious difficulties. For one, I did not know whether he wished any attention at all, for he had quite overlooked every other holiday, and furthermore I was at a loss as to a present. He had plenty of pipes, and the obvious present, a violin, was useless, since he already possessed the most precious instrument. Providence was kind with me, however, for Holmes was so startled at the sight of a cake that he did not mind the discolouration of a now-purple dressing gown.


	5. Morning

_A/N: This one could be seen as a part of the retirement ark over in Four Strings and a Bow._

_

* * *

_**Morning**

The first thing that came to my attention was the chill. I was cold to the bone, shivering even under the blankets I was huddled in. The fire, of course, had gone out.

Next was the pain. Fierce, stabbing pain in both my hands, which flared up whenever I even tried to move my fingers. The rheumatism was back. Usually, I would have asked the landlady to relight the fire and stayed in bed, but how could I while Watson was visiting?

Suddenly, the very man stood in the doorway. "I say, Holmes, are you fine?" Good old Watson.


	6. Breakfast

**Breakfast**

"Holmes, you must eat. One cannot survive without food."

"Oh, don't be obtuse, Watson. I know that."

"One would not think so."

He threw down his newspapers. "This case, Watson! This case..."

"Do you have any fresh evidence? Something in the papers?"

"The usual nonsense, nothing of use. They are speculating, of course."

I passed him the toast. "Then you're racking your mind to pieces. We've gone through it a hundred times, and have overlooked nothing. Put the matter out of your head and eat."

"By Jove, Watson! I have solved it!"


	7. Eggs

_A/N: Can be read as a continuation of the last._

_

* * *

_**Eggs**

"Eggs, Watson." Holmes's eyes gleamed with delight.

"Eggs?" Even recalling the kitchen, I could see no connection to the murder of the cook.

"Yes. You will recall that the pot was still on the oven. Now, the family dislikes hard-boiled eggs by admission of Saunders. Lord Harris testified that the oven was still lit when he and his brother discovered the body, making it impossible to determine the exact time of death, and, therefore, our murderer. However, the eggs were by no means hard-boiled. The oven, then, was already off, and Harries lied to shield his deed."


	8. Easter

_A/N: Warning for strong cynicism. _

_

* * *

_**Easter**

"Sherlock, stop fidgeting! I will never be able to straighten your tie, much less your collar, if you keep squirming."

"It's too tight! And I don't want to go. I can hardly breathe, Mycroft!"

"Then you shall be a perfect companion for the ladies."

"You wouldn't dare! I'm not going."

"Yes, you will. Father insists. It's only the Easter mess, brother mine."

Several years later, when he stood on the church premises on Easter morning to investigate the death of the clergyman, he wondered how many days the murderer had ruined, and how many saved.

* * *

_Since I was asked about the title of this little collection: Spruce and Willow are some of the kinds of wood used to construct a Stradivarius. _


	9. Holiday

_A/N: During DEVI._

_

* * *

_**Holiday**

I breathed in deeply, and with great delight. The sea air was fresh and soothing, and there was little doubt that it would wok wonders for both our health. I relished the quiet of the scenery, even though it was overshadowed by a sombre history. No doubt these age-old mysteries appealed to the imagination of my friend, and maybe he would find something to occupy his mind without risking permanent damage to his well-being. I very much wished to see him restored to his former self, for his morose mood and worsening depression weighed heavily on my shoulders as well.


	10. Travel

_A/N: During the Hiatus._

_

* * *

_**Travel**

After so many years of living in London, and travelling only seldom, it was quite a difference not to have a place to return to every night, and only as much possession as he could carry. He had hardly ever felt so free, and yet... Maybe that was just the disguise. Sigerson, the Norwegian, Sigerson, the traveller. To him, the prospect of seeing foreign places and strange countries held great appeal. Sherlock Holmes, however, in his heart of hearts, longed for the quiet lodgings of Baker Street, the calm of familiarity, and the company of a trusted friend named Watson.


	11. Train

**Train**

The compartment was empty when they bustled in. The doctor was supporting the weight of the detective, both were limping. Watson from an old wound received a long time ago, Holmes from an only recent fracture of his left leg. They fell on the bench side by side, happy that they both had trapped another criminal without being severely harmed. Holmes yawned, and soon was lulled to sleep by the gentle swaying of the train. Watson, assured of their safety in the company of the other, smiled as Holmes's head came to rest on his shoulder, and fell asleep, too.


	12. Ticket

_A/N: During BRUC._

_

* * *

_**Ticket**

It was a detail, a trifle, easily overlooked. Who would notice the absence of an object so trivial? But Holmes had noticed, to my amazement. From such a simple thing, the absence of a railway ticket in the dead man's pockets, his extraordinary mind had divined the solution of the case. What to us observers had been nothing more than a puzzling fact had enabled him to prevent an international catastrophe.

Sometimes I feel that due to my desire to please him, and though I try portraying his genius in every word, my stories do not do him justice.


	13. Luggage

_A/N: More retirement. This time, Watson's perspective._

_

* * *

_**Luggage**

He knew something was wrong when the station came into view and he was unable to spot Holmes's lean figure on the platform. He still had not appeared when Watson left the train, and picked up his luggage. Whatever was keeping him, it was likely to be unpleasant.

Watson scanned the area for a cab, but there was only one waiting by the station. No sign of Holmes.

"May I help you with your luggage, sir?"

Watson turned, and stared. Holmes's disguise was near perfect, but his eyes gave him away. "It seems I can still surprise you."


	14. Sleep

**Sleep**

It really was impossible. Holmes had not slept properly for days on end, denying his brain any rest as long as the case was not yet solved. Now that it was concluded, he had agreed to sleep. Only after such exertions, a good night's sleep wasn't enough.

I rose from my writing desk and walked over to his side to twist the still glowing pipe from his limp fingers as he drowsed away on the sofa. In this state, he looked almost harmless, childlike, and sure enough without my attention he would have set himself and the sitting room aflame.


	15. Tired

_A/N: Early retirement._

_

* * *

_**Tired**

"_Hullo, Watson. I did not notice you. Since when are you here?"_

"_I arrived yesterday, Holmes. Visiting your bees?"_

"_Ah, no. They fare well without me. Are you sure you were here yesterday?"_

"_You were ill, Holmes. Be careful."_

"_Ill? Surely not. No, Watson, you are trying to fool me. I'm just so tired. Very tired..."_

When Sherlock Holmes jerked to wakefulness after that, shivering under his blanket by the fire, he swore to himself that if fever was to conjure up nightmares of old age, he would call Watson next time he felt ill.


	16. Help

_A/N: Before SiXN. _

_

* * *

_**Help**

Inspector Lestrade frowned at his notes in frustration. As if it wasn't enough that he and Gregson were both assigned to this case! No, the younger had steadfastly declared that it was 'all so perfectly simple' that he would take a week off and let him work alone. To be quite frank, Lestrade placed all his hopes in his visit to Baker Street, a mere social call that had become a regularity of late, thanks to Dr Watson's courtesy.

When a few hours later Holmes presented him with the pearl of the Borgias, he felt that thanks were required.


	17. Action

_A/N: Before and AU to DYIN._

_

* * *

_**Action**

When he found the small parcel amongst his letters, he sighed heavily. He had hoped for another way, but now, it was the only remaining course of action. He could not fool Watson on medical matters. If he wished to obtain a full confession, it would be at the risk of his life. The method of healing this sickness had not been tested, nor could he be sure. Worst of all, he would have to frighten both Watson and Mrs Hudson, and she was a delicate soul.

Such were Holmes's thoughts as he let the infected spring prick his finger.


	18. Admit

_A/N: And after AU-DYIN_.

* * *

**Admit**

"Did you enjoy your soup?"

Holmes let his gaze travel through the familiar surroundings of Simpson's. "Immensely. Watson..."

"Hm?"

"You are angry."

"Of course I am! You should have told me it was all a ruse. You wouldn't even let me near you!"

"Watson, you are an excellent doctor. Smith I could deceive with malingering, but you... It would never do, my dear fellow. You know me far too well."

"Are you telling me that in truth you really were sick with this horrible disease when Mrs Hudson called me to your aid?!"


	19. Afraid

**Afraid**

"Sherlock!"

"Brother mine?"

"What do you think you are doing?"

"It's just between friends."

"This... brute is not a friend! You could be badly injured, or killed! Does your fellow lodger know about this?"

"No, and he doesn't need to. He is still convalescing. Besides, my opponent is not a brute, but a price-fighter, and a gentleman."

"Hardly that!"

"I am not that easily beaten, Mycroft. I will survive."

"At least you are afraid. No, don't deny it. It's a good thing, Sherlock, it means you'll be careful. In your recklessness."

* * *

_A/N: Sorry, everyone, for the delay in updating. Real life got in my way rather forcefully._


	20. Agree

**Agree**

"He's a military man, I gather?"

"Former army doctor."

"I see. Recently returned from Afghanistan, and wounded there, no doubt. Still sick, easily disturbed without question. Has done sports once – rugby, I'd say. He's a younger brother, his watch-chain is newly bought, nor heirloom then. The watch would surely have gone to the eldest son. He won't last a week with you, or else go insane, would you not agree?"

"Brother mine, as a matter of fact, Watson and I are lodging together for almost a month, and he has the patience of a saint."


	21. Angry

_A/N: Yes, I'm back! I figured after so long a break, I will post some drabbles for you! I hope you haven't quite forgotten me, and continue to enjoy these. Remember, all prompts here are free to use, so long as you credit me as the creator, and let me know you have written some! _

_This one is set after EMPT.  
_

_

* * *

_

**Angry**

At first, I felt naught but relief at Holmes's miraculous return to life, but after the initial joy had worn off, I felt oddly disappointed that he had not trusted me enough to confide his secret to me.

And so it was that on that day, the morning after his return, we had the first real quarrel of our association. Holmes was still in a joyous mood, and in my anger, I found it impossible to tolerate his aloof manner. He was so shocked at my outburst that he didn't even try to dodge the journal I hurled at him.


	22. Beat

_A/N: Direct continuation of the last._

_

* * *

_**Beat**

The journal hit Holmes, and quite unceremoniously both crumpled down on the floor. And still, it took me a moment and the sight of a faint trickle of blood on his cheek to shake off my anger, and bring guilt to surface.

I quickly squinted down at his side, upon which he, with a theatrical groan, opened his eyes, evicting a smile I could not hold back.

"Do you understand my reasoning now, Watson?"

"Indeed I do, old fellow. How do you feel?"

"Other than the pounding in my head, better than in years, friend Watson."


	23. Beautiful

_A/N: Retirement again. I wanted something less depressing for a change.  
_

_

* * *

_**Beautiful**

Had someone told me a few years ago that upon his retirement, Holmes would intend to go bee-farming in the Sussex Downs, I probably would have laughed at him.

But now, as I stood on the doorstep of Holmes's new home, which commented an excellent view of the beehives, blinking against the sunlight of a warm autumn day and smoking, in save distance from his precious insects, I could not help but noticing that the world's foremost detective Sherlock Holmes, in the midst of a swarm of thousands of wings bathed in the evening sun, presented a beautiful picture indeed.


	24. Bill

_A/N: More drabbles for you! Did you miss me? ;)_

_

* * *

_

**Bill**

Holmes had been quiet all morning. He would not acknowledge my presence, or even look at me, but continued to stare into the empty fireplace as if they were the gates of Hell. At noon, he finally rose with a heavy sigh and handed me a letter as if for explanation.

"Holmes, this is a bill."

"Yet another," he snapped, flipping open his chequebook. "It seems I am getting all of London's bills, and none of her clients."

"You are bankrupt?"

"Not yet. But if this continues, I will have to cut more than tobacco."


	25. Break

_A/N: Hiatus again._

_

* * *

_

**Break**

Per definitionem, it was but a break. As a man of words, Watson would surely have been able to tell him. Maybe he would just look it up: hiatus, disambiguations. Mycroft had come up with the word, his mocking tone evident even in telegram form.

Somehow, 'hiatus' had just gotten a very different level of meaning to him. Surely somewhere, below that harmless exterior, lay the notion of sadness, solitude that had become loneliness, of pain and regret, of unwanted change that had come too quickly, and the loss of everything one had secretly cherished, and all one held dear.


	26. Bright

_A/N: Holmes's POV. _

_

* * *

_

**Bright**

I had left Baker Street early, to enjoy the breeze and the lingering smell of spring rain that had cleansed the London air of the pollution that had accumulated during those rainless days of winter.

My morning paper had informed me of a quite intriguing case, and I had no doubt that I could expect the visit of one Scotland Yard inspector to-day. Something, at last, to occupy my restless mind.

When I returned, however, it was to find my new fellow lodger curled up by the fire, looking miserable, and suddenly, the day did no longer seem as bright.


	27. Burn

_A/N: After Waton's marriage._

_

* * *

_**Burn**

The pained yelp startled Mrs Hudson so much that she dropped her frying pan, and hurried upstairs. The sitting room was empty, but she found her exacerbating lodger in his own, sucking his finger like a child.

"Mr Holmes?"

"Mrs Hudson. I burned myself."

She sighed calmly. "Let me see."

"No, no need." He waved her away, but she caught his swaying limp. The fingers were turning reddish.

"You cannot leave it."

He grinned slyly. "Then send for married Watson."

It was an excellent excuse, and better than most of the past days, too.


	28. Care

_A/N: A continuation of the last._

_

* * *

_**Care**

"He will not come, Mr Holmes." Mrs Hudson watched the transition in her lodger's face with shock. Over the years, she had gotten used to his aloofness and eccentricity, and she was deeply concerned about his transformation into a desperate, depressed and broken man.

"What?" He snatched the wire from her hands, crumbled it to a ball, not caring about the blood that broke from his burned hand. "Does he not care?"

"I think he does, Mr Holmes. About his wife."

"No."

"Marriage and friendship don't exclude each other."

"It seems they do."


	29. Pride

_A/N: This 221B is especially for **Azolean**, who has left a string of charming reviews on a variety of my stories - I really appreciate it, and am very glad you've enjoyed what I wrote. You've made my day, thank you so much! :)**  
**_

_As for everyone, I am currently on hiatus from fanfic writing in general, but I plan on returning! I have a couple of fics lying around which have not yet seen the light of day on this site, and I might just post them sporadically before I return full force with new fics, probably later next year.  
_

* * *

**Pride**

It had occurred to me, that, sometimes, I made a mistake in publishing the cases of my dear friend Mr Sherlock Holmes. Not only did he fail to appreciate the stories, they shifted some of our clients into an undue spotlight. The speculation I have heard as to who Irene Adler (an alias, of course) might really be! But, I have often felt that Holmes's work offered him little enough in terms of public praise, and when I read letters to the editors of a certain distinguished newspaper, maligning him as a madman, I should say that I've done rightly, after all. Holmes's genius might be so dazzling brilliant that a common man cannot grasp it, but I have never seen him act mad in any way, and my accounts should serve to show that he never deviated from the paths that logic dictated him. He may be unorthodox and exasperating, often trying, but sometimes tried, and I should never reduce him to the same level as the poor unfortunates of our mental institutions.

However, I have never felt more proud of my little accounts than when Holmes, lying on the settee in his Sussex cottage and dragging languidly on his pipe, lay down the last page of my most recent manuscript and said, for the first time: "Not bad."


	30. Coast

_A/N: I have dug up some long-written gems which should have been posted into this collection a long time ago. Have three of them now for your enjoyment, with the firm promise of more to come.  
_

_This one is Holmes's POV, set after Watson's death, and a bit heavy on images ;-).  
_

* * *

**Coast**

The memory of the old times, our good city, London, with its variety and multitude of singular features and cases, the hustle-bustle of everyday-life, was like a beacon in the darkness, a buoy, a shred, a grasp, a lifeline to keep a sinking ship above water.

Maybe that was the reason why I took up writing. Why I picked up the unfinished pieces, half-written cases. But with the last line written and well-chosen – none would have been better – I wondered how much longer it would take me to reach the coast where my dear Watson was already waiting.


	31. Country

**Country**

The praise in the papers was overwhelming, even far from the actual occurrences in Lyons. Or so he was told, not that it mattered. Great services for king and country, indeed. He would never let on that it had been a favour for a distant relation of the Vernet branch of the family.

How could he have known that at the end of a strenuous investigation he would unearth a criminal organisation which threatened to overthrow Europe?

He had not asked for praise, he did not deserve it, really. The case should have, and could have, been solved more quickly.

* * *

_A/N: Do you know which case it was? _


	32. Hue

_A/N: Retirement again. Wiggins visits Holmes in sussex. :)_**  
**

* * *

**Hue**

Wiggins looked strikingly well in the uniform, having earned it. Scotland Yard would benefit from his presence, from an investment made so many years ago. Inspector of Police, indeed.

"Are you quite fine, Mr Holmes?"

"Of course, dear chap, why wouldn't I be? It suits you well."

"Thank you, sir. Did you know they are practising your methods at the Yard now?"

"Rather late than never, wouldn't you say?"

"Indeed. You haven't changed much, sir."

"It's hue, you know. My hair is not really dark any more."

"Exactly what I meant, Mr Holmes."


End file.
